


Strike me (with your words)

by Rothecooldad



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, can i call this a, either way they meet and things happen enjoy the show folks, meet cute, meet ugly, or should i say its a, rimmy tim, so tags will be added as i figure out what in the world im actually doing, this just in: author still has even less of an idea of what's going on than the characters, violence but not super descriptive, whoops apparently im turning this into a thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rothecooldad/pseuds/Rothecooldad
Summary: In which Ryan makes a lot of mistakes and meets somebody he never thought he wouldJeremy isn't having any of it





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are based upon the internet personalities portrayed by members of Achievement Hunter and in no way are meant to reflect the lives of the actual person or persons themselves.

“Hurry it up, Gav.” Ryan hissed, watching Gavin out of the corner of his eye as he shoved the stacks of bills into the black duffel bag. Ryan's gun was trained on the door, ready to fire if somebody decided to follow them into the vault.  Through his comm, Ryan could hear Michael yelling at the bank dwellers to stay down.

 

“In my defense,” Gavin started, zipping up the bag. “I thought we'd have more time.”

 

“Well, you thought wrong, didn’t you?” 

 

“It’s not  _ my  _ fault the LSPD are working abnormally hard tonight.” Gavin shot back angrily, tossing one of the bags to Ryan and shouldering the other. 

 

Ryan caught his before it hit him in the face and he scowled before slinging it across his back.

 

“Could you two stop bickering like a couple of insubordinate children for five fucking seconds and hurry your asses up?” Jack cut in, her voice stern and demanding in his ear, shutting the both of them up instantly.

 

“Yes, mum.” Gavin said, giggling. He stuck his tongue out at Ryan.

 

‘ _ Real mature,’ _ Ryan thought, flipping him off. He turned back toward the door and kept his gun pointed in front of him. He opened the door and craned his neck to see the mess that awaited them outside.

 

He pulled his head back instantly, almost slamming the door on himself in his haste.

 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he cursed, peeking out again, making sure to keep hidden behind the door. 

 

“How bad?” Gavin asked behind him.

 

“ _ Well..”  _ Ryan started, his voice taking on a higher pitch that he wasn't even aware he could make. “ _ I mean,  _ uh, we've definitely had worse?”

 

“That's not exactly reassuring.” Gavin informed him, his eyes shifting between Ryan's face and the vault door.

 

“Wasn't trying to be.” Ryan told him, trying to map out a new plan silently, weighing their options.

 

“ _ Boys,”  _ Jack cut in again, the urgency in her voice making Ryan's stomach sink. “LSPD is already at the bank. Mogar and Boss had to bail. Get the cash and get the fuck out.  _ Now.”  _

 

“ _ Flippin’ hell _ , alright,” Gavin faced Ryan, tightening his grip on the strap. “How’re we getting out of this one, Rye?”

“That's a really good question. Um,” Ryan sighed.  _ Fuck.  _ “Okay, Gav, I have an idea but you're probably not gonna like it.” 

 

“Oh, I  _ hate it _ when you say that.” Gavin whined, but straightened his back anyway, giving his full attention to Ryan.

 

“I’ll create a distraction, you take the money and run. Got it?”

 

“Ryan,” Gavin murmured softly. “And, what about you, huh? How’re you supposed to get out without the LSPD on your ass?”

 

Ryan groaned and shoved his duffel bag at Gavin’s chest.

 

“Don’t argue, alright, just fucking do what I say for once in your goddamn life. Just wait until they’re not paying attention and book it.” And with that, Ryan turned and strode out the door confidently, the gun in his hand his only security. He could hear Gavin huff angrily back in the vault, but he did what he was told, thankfully.

 

There was barely a moment to breathe, let alone any time to think about how weak his plan actually was, before he was surrounded by police officers, their firearms all pointed directly at him. Admittedly, this hadn’t been the first time he was stuck in this situation, the sight more familiar than he’d like. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence in his life, but he resented it, nonetheless.

 

He completely tuned out the officers yelling at him to lower his weapon, his eyes scanning the room of innocent people. Ryan’s gaze landed on one man who appeared to be more at ease in this situation than the others. Something about that felt…  _ off _ , but right now, Ryan couldn’t have cared less, aiming his gun at the man.

 

“You!” Ryan bellowed. “Stand up, now.” 

The cops kept yelling, but Ryan never wavered, his eyes locked on the man.

 

The hostage sighed, and if Ryan didn’t know any better, he would have sworn the man actually  _ rolled his eyes.  _

 

The man walked slowly, his hands raised above his head in a clear sign of surrender. He kept his head lowered so Ryan couldn’t get a good look at his face, but if he reached Ryan’s nose, he would have been lucky. He might have been short, but there was no hiding that the man was definitely built under the leather jacket he was wearing. Ryan took note of the muscular arms and chest and he prayed the man wouldn’t decide to put up a struggle. Ryan wasn’t convinced he’d be able to win that fight without his weapon, so he readjusted his grip on the gun and waited for the man to reach him.

 

When the man was in front of him, Ryan didn’t hesitate to turn him around, wrapping his arm around the man’s shoulders, lifting the gun up to his head.

 

“Lower your fucking weapons!” Ryan demanded, pressing his own against the man’s temple. “ _ Don’t say a fucking word.”  _ He told the man quietly. The unspoken threat of bodily harm, or worse, a slow and painful death if he didn’t comply, was left hanging in the air between them, getting lost somewhere in the chaos of the situation. Ryan felt the man tense under him.

 

“ _ I wouldn’t do that, buddy.”  _ The man warned, his voice low and harsh. But, he obeyed, only moving when told.

 

Those words… Something about them took Ryan off guard, as if he should  _ know  _ them, and he almost faltered in his movements. Thankfully, his self-preservation instincts had kicked in, not giving him a moment to reflect on  _ why  _ he knew the words. Even while Ryan marched the two of them passed the cops, his gun still pressed against the man’s head, the man’s comment left a pang in Ryan’s chest, a tingle in his ear. 

 

It left him more on edge.

 

They made it outside, the LSPD deciding that a civilian life was more important than taking down one of The Fakes apparently.

 

_ Idiots,  _ Ryan thought viciously, shoving the man to go faster.

 

“ _ Hey, watch it.” _ The man said, wriggling his shoulders and loosening Ryan’s grip. “I don’t like getting manhandled, asshole.” 

 

Ryan quirked his brow at the man’s nerve. He tapped the gun against his head and chuckled darkly. 

 

“Don’t exactly think you’re really in the position to make those kinds of demands, now, are you?”

 

Ryan felt his hostage’s shoulders slump and heard him exhale shakily.

 

“Y-you’re absolutely right, S-sir.” he stuttered out, the tone of his voice an octave higher than it was before. “P-please don’t hurt me.” He begged.

 

The rapid change in attitude made Ryan feel a tad uneasy, but he chalked it up to shock on the man’s part. People tended to react badly in stressful situations. Against his better judgement, Ryan took pity on the man, and gave him one last warning squeeze before releasing him.

 

“Don’t try anything, and I won’t have to hurt you, alright?” Ryan cautioned, lowering his gun. He reached for his ear, ready to call in for one of the others to come get him, but paused when the man in front of him snorted, shaking his head.

 

“God, you’re a fuckin’ moron.” And, without giving Ryan the chance to ponder on that statement, the man whipped his whole body around and tackled him to the ground. 

 

“Wha-,” Ryan started, processing the sudden action. The man didn’t hesitate, fist coming up and slamming against Ryan’s mask. Ryan felt the hard rubber cut into his cheek and he hissed, thrusting his hips upward to get the man off of him. The man just punched harder, pinning Ryan’s body down with far more force than Ryan gave him credit for. Holy shit, he was  _ fast.  _ Ryan barely registered what was going on by the time his head bashed into the concrete and his nose was broken. He was rapidly losing consciousness, and his breathing was shallow.

_ “The fuck _ ,” Ryan wheezed out, the corners of his vision darkening. He had enough common sense not to remove his mask, not wanting to reveal too much. 

 

“Really sorry bout this, pal,” The man told him, not sounding sincere at all as he dragged Ryan behind the dumpster. Ryan hissed in pain, praying that the others would show up soon. “You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Shit luck, dude.” 

 

The man stepped away, and Ryan had to squint to still see him. In the haze of his vision, he could barely make out what looked to be a motorcycle that he definitely hadn’t noticed in the alley before.

 

The man walked back to where Ryan was lying on the ground and leaned toward him, his arm outstretched. Ryan couldn’t distinguish any other facial features beyond a  dark beard and in Ryan’s scrambled thoughts, he wondered who the fuck this guy was. 

Ryan tried to reach for the hand, hoping to pull himself up, but the man just knocked his hand away and grabbed Ryan’s comm. 

 

“Tell your buddies that they owe me for messin’ up my heist.” And he threw the comm on the ground, crushing it under his foot. 

 

Ryan could no longer form coherent thoughts, his mind swirling with pain and darkness. The last thing he could remember was the bright orange lights fading away.

 

***

 

When Ryan came to, he found himself surrounded by various medical equipment. He looked around, his mind still foggy.

 

“About damn time you woke up, Rye.” He heard Geoff say. “Pull a self-sacrificing stunt like that again and I’ll let Lindsay beat your ass herself.”

 

Ryan chuckled softly, the action reminding him how sore his face was. 

 

“Will do, Boss.” He reassured him. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut again when another wave of pain hit. “What happened?”

 

“Oh, I’ll tell you what happened, dickhead. You decided to be a fucking distraction and then took the  _ only  _ person in the room who could possibly be a threat to you as a fucking  _ hostage _ .” Geoff informed him.

 

“Of all the people in all of Los Santos,” He heard a voice say to his right, letting him know that Gavin was also in the room. “You managed to take  _ Rimmy Tim  _ hostage. Absolutely mental.”

 

Ryan’s memories of the heist were fuzzy at best after he had left Gavin, but one thing did ring clear.

 

“ _ I wouldn’t do that, buddy.” _

 

Ryan’s hand flew up to his neck.

 

“Who in their right mind would ever go by Rimmy Tim? That’s just asking for anal jokes.” Geoff scoffed.

 

“Wot?” Gavin squawked. “You don’t know who Rimmy Tim is?” He sounded offended.

 

“ _...my soulmate…” _ Ryan mumbled to himself, fingers tracing the words at the base of his neck that he kept carefully covered with his hair. The mark that he’d worn since he was eighteen, when he still thought the whole soulmate thing was romantic and he couldn’t wait to meet whatever person the universe thought would be perfect for him. He’d long given up on such notions.

 

“What was that, Rye?” Geoff asked him curiously. 

 

“I said it was a stupid name,” He lied. 

 

Gavin glared at him, going on to gush about this Rimmy Tim dude. Ryan tuned him out, catching something about orange and purple and --  _ monster trucks? _

 

He thought back to the man in the alley and sighed.

  
_Figures._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy's luck lands him in a sticky situation and fate gets him out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are based upon the internet personalities portrayed by members of Achievement Hunter and in no way are meant to reflect the lives of the actual person or persons themselves.
> 
>  
> 
> After weeks of promises and little to no seep, I bring you chapter two

_ A guard at each entrance.   _ Check.  

 

Jeremy glanced at his watch, his eyes following the second hand as it ticked its rotation around the face before looking up again.  _ Shift change between 5 and 6pm, fifteen minute window. Move smart, act fast.  _ He nodded to himself.

 

He shifted his gaze from the right exit to the upper right corner of the room, adjusting the sunglasses obscuring his face. 

 

_ Security cameras in opposite facing corners.  _ Check.

 

_ Blind spot in northern corner. Keep head down, shot to each. _

 

Jeremy went down his mental checklist one last time before finally deciding he’d gathered as much last minute intel as he could. Everything was as it should be, each piece in place. 

 

As long as they stuck to the plan, everything was going to go off without a hitch.

 

“ _ EVERYBODY, ON THE FLOOR NOW.”  _

 

Or, it  _ would  _ have, had the double doors at the front of the bank not been forced open by a group of masked assholes carrying guns in an impressive act of what Jeremy was considering the worst case of dramatic irony life could have thrown at him.

 

_ Great. _

 

And so, Jeremy was forced to duck down and play the weak civilian with the rest of the bank attendees, all the while struggling not to make a move himself as guns were waved in his face and threats rang out across the entire floor.

 

He would have to have been real fucking stupid not to know just who these fucks were. If the code names they’d been yelling to each other hadn’t already been a dead giveaway, the clothes surely would have left no room for guessing. The Vagabond’s mask and Ramsey’s suit were unmistakable, if not a bit flashy -- though, who was he to complain, really? His Rimmy clothes didn’t exactly give him a leg to stand on here.

 

_ The Fake AH Crew.  _

 

Jeremy grimaced into the sleeve of his jacket as he kept his body pressed to the ground.

 

Mogar was shooting warning bullets past the civilians on the other side to  keep them down and Ramsey had his rifle pointed at the teller, threatening the woman behind the glass. The woman was crying so hard she was shaking, cowering away in fear.

 

Jeremy watched as The Vagabond and The Golden Boy broke away from the chaos and headed for the door leading to the back. He'd bet all the money  in the vault that they were about to steal from  _ right under his nose _ that Pattillo was waiting outside in their getaway vehicle.

 

They were almost predictable in their movements, and if Jeremy didn't have his own guy planted in the heart of the force with the other LSPD pigs, he’d swear they were paying them off to stay on the streets. Jeremy hadn’t paid particularly close attention to them himself --he kept tabs on them, sure, he'd be stupid not to, but he had never had a problem with The Fakes before-- and even he knew how they operated. He'd have compared them to a well-oiled machine if he hadn't seen  it himself firsthand. 

 

Maybe not the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, or even the finesse of one, but they worked with the synchronization and ease only found in groups that had been together for a long time and had absolute trust in each other. 

 

Jeremy found himself admiring it, if begrudgingly.

 

That's why Jeremy was more than a little surprised to note that Mogar and Ramsey had left in a rush --  _ without The Vagabond and The Golden  Boy. _

 

 From what he could tell, this seemed pretty out of character for the group. It would make sense if there was a way out from the vault, but Jeremy knew from hours spent poring over his own copy of the blueprints, that wasn't the case. There was only one entrance to the vault and there was only one exit. If they were going to try to leave, he'd be able to see it.

 

_ Interesting. _

 

_ What are you playing at, Fakes?  _ He thought to himself, keeping his eyes on the exit, ignoring the police that were rushing in.

 

Barely a beat had passed before Jeremy spotted The Vagabond again, gun raised in self defense --and  _ alone.  _

 

The corner of Jeremy's mouth twitched upwards just slightly when he realized what The Vagabond was doing.

  
  


A distraction.

  
  


_ Huh,  _ he thought, looking at The Vagabond closer, as if he could see passed the skull mask and directly into his mind.  _ Never pegged you to be the self- sacrificing type.  _

 

At least, it appeared, The Fakes were as loyal to each other as Jeremy had heard. 

 

The police had already surrounded him when Jeremy caught sight of the Golden Boy carrying both his and The Vagabond's duffel bags out of the vault.

 

Jeremy was both unsurprised and, perhaps, a little disappointed that the Golden Boy remained unseen by the other cops as they tried to apprehend his friend. 

 

He turned his attention to The Vagabond still walking toward them. He was acting very confident, but the stiff way he was walking and the tense line of his shoulders belied his arrogance. He was nervous, understandably so. 

 

Though, something told Jeremy it wasn't himself he was nervous about.

 

_ How ya getting out of this one, Vagabond?  _ He wondered, his eyes tracking each step the masked man took.

 

No sooner did the thought cross his mind than The Vagabond was looking his way intently, effectively ignoring the LSPD’s demands.

 

“You!” He yelled at Jeremy, gun pointed in his direction. “Stand up now!”

 

Jeremy huffed out a breath as he pushed himself off the ground. Of all the people he could have chosen, of course, he just happened to pick Jeremy.

 

Jeremy rolled his eyes and raised his hands above his head slowly, keeping his face as obscured as possible. It was unlikely to happen, but he took a quick cursory glance at which members of the force were currently in the bank and noted his guys weren’t there to bail him out if he got recognized. 

 

So he played along, complying to The Vagabond’s demands. At least, if his plan worked, they’d both get out of here relatively unscathed.

 

The Vagabond wasted no time in putting Jeremy into a near-headlock, the cold barrel of the pistol pressing against his temple. Jeremy willed himself not to fight back.

 

The Vagabond was shouting at the police to drop their weapons before lowering his voice and whispering in Jeremy’s ear.

 

“ _ Don’t say a fucking word.”  _ The threat curled around Jeremy’s ears and he tensed, his mind coming to a screeching halt. A chill went down his spine, and he could have sworn he felt the words on his left palm itch under his glove.

 

_ You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. _

 

Because,  _ sure,  _ Jeremy knew he had a soulmate, knew that somebody out there was meant to be his cosmic one-and-only. But, to find them, find  _ him,  _ fucking up one of Jeremy’s heists with his one of his own? This felt more like a joke than some destiny matchmaking bullshit.

 

So, Jeremy decided to ignore this _revelation_ (read: inconvenience)  for now, returning The Vagabond’s unspoken threat with one of his own.

 

“ _ I wouldn’t do that, buddy.”   _ Jeremy rasped out, voice harsh, barely above a whisper. 

 

He wanted to say more, wanted to ask just what the  _ fuck _ he thought he was doing, but he didn’t. He kept quiet and complicit, following The Vagabond’s not-so-gentle pushing. 

 

The Vagabond shoved him forward when they reached outside, and Jeremy couldn’t bite his tongue that time.

 

“ _ Hey, watch it.” _ Jeremy told him, struggling against the hold The Vagabond had on him for the first time that night, now that they were away from the immediate threat of the police. “I don’t like getting manhandled, asshole.”

 

He heard The Vagabond chuckle behind him before he felt the gun tap against his temple again. Jeremy clenched his fist.

 

“Don’t exactly think you’re really in the position to make those kinds of demands, now, are you?” The Vagabond asked, the cocky air to his voice obviously meant to be intimidating, but was only serving to piss Jeremy the fuck off. 

 

If he ever met the person/deity/what the fuck ever might be out there that was in control of fate, he was going to punch it right in its smug face for matching him with such a  _ douche _ .

 

Jeremy’s shoulders slumped and he made a concentrated effort to calm himself down, taking a deep breath,

 

“Y-you’re absolutely right, S-sir.” Jeremy admitted to him, stuttering his words. He tried to make himself look smaller. “P-please don’t hurt me.” he begged.

 

He was baffled when The Vagabond actually took the bait, tightening his grip around Jeremy briefly before letting go.

 

“Don’t try anything, and I won’t have to hurt you, Alright?” Was he fucking  _ reassuring  _  Jeremy? What the fuck. Where was the big bad Vagabond Jeremy heard so much about? The heartless merc who’d snap your neck for looking at him the wrong way?

 

Jeremy was in disbelief. He felt a bubble of laughter work its way from his chest and shook his head.

 

“God, you’re a fuckin’ moron.” Jeremy said, more to himself, before whipping around and tackling The Vagabond to the ground. 

 

The surprise attack and the shock of the blow gave Jeremy the upper hand and he took advantage of that, bringing his fists down against The Vagabond’s mask. The hard rubber ripped at Jeremy’s knuckles through his gloves. He spared a brief moment to mourn the loss of his favorite pair of leather riding gloves, but he didn’t let up until he was sure The Vagabond was well on his way to unconsciousness.

 

“Really sorry about this, pal.” Jeremy told him. He didn't bother making it sound like he had actually meant it, although he almost did. Sort of. It wasn't necessarily The Vagabond's fault he was in this situation, but that never stopped Jeremy before, soulmate or not. “You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Shit luck, dude.”

 

While he was talking, Jeremy busied himself dragging The Vagabond's body behind the nearby dumpster. He was lighter than Jeremy had anticipated, so Jeremy barely had to strain to move him. The Vagabond didn't struggle, hissing in pain when he was jostled too much.

 

Jeremy grabbed The Rimmy Cycle from where he stashed it in the alley earlier that evening when he had expected to make a clean getaway without police involvement. He went to grab his helmet hanging off the handlebars but paused, walking back to where The Vagabond was laying in pain.

 

He leaned over The Vagabond and reached his arm out, grabbing for the listening device that Jeremy had seen him try to use before. The Vagabond lifted his own shaky hand toward Jeremy, but Jeremy just pushed it away.

 

“Tell your buddies they owe me for messin’ up my heist.” Jeremy growled before hurling the comm onto the ground, bringing the heel of his foot down on it. The device let out a piercing metal squeal that had Jeremy wincing, before it trailed off into silence.

 

_ There,  _ he thought, giving The Vagabond one last once over.  _ That should send a message, loud and fucking clear.  _

 

Jeremy didn’t care who the fuck they thought they were; nobody fucks up his heists, not the police, not his own teammates, and certainly not his supposed soulmate.

  
  


He tore out of the alleyway, his tires skidding across the pavement. In the distance, he could still hear the police sirens wailing. He grinned almost manically.

 

_ Fuck, that was close.  _

 

_ Of all fucking random happenstance…  _ He shook his head, and sighed.

 

Jeremy fished his cell phone out of his jacket pocket without removing his eyes from the road and hit  speed dial.

 

“Jerem?” Came the voice on the other end.

 

“You’ll never guess what just fucking happened, holy shit.” Jeremy swerved to miss a pothole, almost dropping his phone in the process.

 

“Let me guess,” Matt started. “The Fakes showed up on your little reconnaissance mission and now, not only are we out a substantial amount of money, we’re back to square one for our next heist.”

 

“Ding ding ding. Got it in one.” Jeremy had to remind himself he was currently using both hands, and pinching his nose in annoyance could very well cause his death. Which, really, would just be the type of shit his karma already had set out for him and he wasn’t playing with that shit right now. “News already got out, huh?”

 

“Ooh yeah.” Matt confirmed bitterly. “Shit’s everywhere. Can’t even turn on the TV or check literally any social media site without seeing it.”

 

Jeremy ground his teeth.

 

“ _ Fuckin’ Fakes.”  _ He hissed out. “Of all the fucking places in the beauteous shitstain we call a home, and they fucking move in on  _ my territory.” _ Jeremy was seething, his vision starting to blur. 

 

“ _ Our territory,  _ Asshole. Your ass wouldn’t be here without me.” Jeremy rolled his eyes but conceded on the point. Matt wasn’t exactly  _ wrong.  _ “Besides, technically speaking, the bank was on neutral ground. It was why we were hitting it-- or,  _ going to hit it --  _ in the first place.”

 

“I fucking hate it when you’re right.” He sighed. “Fine, okay sure, whatever, they didn’t know. But, you’ll never guess what else.”

 

Matt hummed for Jeremy to continue.

 

“The Vagabond? Yeah, he’s apparently--” Jeremy cut himself off.

 

What he was going to say was ‘ _ my soulmate’  _  but as he felt his left palm begin to itch  uncomfortably again, he decided against it. That was a whole other can of worms that he was definitely  _ not  _ in the mood to open tonight.

 

Because, yeah, okay, soulmates. He’d come to terms with that inevitability ages ago. And, sure, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that his soulmate would also be a criminal -- This was Los Santos, after all. Either you were a criminal of some degree, or you were one of the cops who were failing to put the criminals away. Some even managed to walk the line between both, a dirty cop working on both sides. But nobody was innocent, not here.

 

And, if he were completely honest with himself (which he tried to avoid doing at all costs, but sometimes those nuggets of truth would worm themselves in anyway), even the prospect of  _ who  _  his soulmate was wasn’t too terrible. He didn’t know any personal details about The Vagabond, but he knew he was loyal and he knew he was powerful. And, of course, even if the fuck couldn’t fight back against Jeremy, he definitely had the muscle mass to have tried.

 

But, even so, when you were in this business, soulmates are the last things you could possibly want. Soulmates mean attachments. Attachments mean a weakness, a liability. 

 

Jeremy was perfectly content without that mess, thank you very much.

 

“...Hello? Earth to Dooley?” Matt laughed nervously. “Didn’t die on me, did ya?”

 

Jeremy shook himself from his thoughts.

 

“Hmm? What was I sayin’?”

 

Jeremy could have sworn he could actually hear Matt roll his eyes. 

 

“Something unbelievable? About The Vagabond?” Matt prompted.

 

“Right! Yeah! He’s a fucking  _ idiot.  _ How in the everloving  fuck did he manage to gain the reputation he did? Fucker tried to defend himself alone with just a  _ pistol.  _ And, then he let me go? Because he felt bad for me? Like, seriously, what the  _ fuck.” _

 

Matt snorted.

 

“Alright, buddy.” 

 

“I’m serious!” Jeremy laughed, pulling his motorcycle into his garage. He flipped it off. “Oh, and Matt? Do me a favor and call Treyco. I have a plan.”

 

“I hate it when you say that.”

  
_ “I think it’s time The Fakes learned a little lesson.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o shit a new chapter eons after I promised to continue whaddup  
> We've officially reached the point where I have no semblance of an idea where this might actually be going (he says as if he had an idea to begin with) but now I'm committed so glad y'all are here for this train wreck  
> Come hmu @ [ Jeremwood ](https://jeremwood.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> its that jeremwood guy back again with more jeremwood  
> i left it open in case i feel so compelled to actually turn this into a real story and not just a mess of rushed regret  
> hmu @ [ Jeremwood ](https://jeremwood.tumblr.com) on tumblr


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